Page 15 of One Dangerous Desire
The thought hadn’t even crossed Rex’s mind. In fact, he’d begun meandering down a much more dangerous path. A trail he’d stepped off of years before, burying his footprints behind him so that he could never find his way back. Killing the fantasy of having May in his life had been far more merciful—and essential to his well-being—than keeping a feeble, foolish hope alive.
“Yes. An advantageous marriage seems the best way to shelter her from Sedgwick’s failures.”
Even as he spoke practical words, May hovered in his mind’s eye. His own daydream of marrying her was folly now, as it had been then. More so. May Sedgwick wasn’t part of his plans. He needed a woman with connections, loyalties that ran blood deep. Despite her viscountess grandmother, she was an American seeking entry into London society, just as he was. If he wished to make amends for the past, the best course would be to wish May well when she married some fop with a title. The gossip rags loved title-for-fortune weddings, and news of such a match might knock news of her father’s losses off the front page.
So if she was not to be his, why did anticipation buzz through him at the prospect of seeing her again?
TONIGHT SHE WOULDshow the Earl of Devenham just how attentive she could be. May was determined the man should leave Ashworth House without a single doubt about her interest. She only hoped he could forgive her previous lukewarm responses and canceled invitations.
“He’s early.” Lady Emily tugged up her glove as she swept into the Ashworth drawing room.
May took a deep breath and let it out slowly in an attempt to settle her nerves before standing to smooth her gown. She’d worn the Worth crimson silk with ruby beading, velvet panels in the bodice, and a daring neckline. It was time to make an impression and catch something more than the Earl of Devenham’s mild consideration.
“Good evening, ladies.”
Her face began to tremble, and the smile she’d pasted on slipped. It wasn’t the affable earl but the serious and all-too-familiar Mr. Leighton. One look at him and her plans faltered. She’d known he’d be here. Prepared herself. Still, the sight of him unraveled her. Some part of her wanted to stare awhile, imprinting him in memory. A rogue rush of pleasure welled up each time she looked at him, despite how anger simmered underneath.
“Mr. Leighton, how clever of you to come early and avoid the crush.” Emily stepped forward to greet Rex just as her father strode into the room.
“Leighton, didn’t one of your famous countrymen have a saying about being early?” the duke asked as he shook Rex’s hand.
“Benjamin Franklin,” May cut in. “Early to bed, early to rise, but I think even he would have acknowledged that arriving early for a party only burdens one’s host.” Pain clutched at her chest, a hollowness behind her ribcage, and she hated the bitterness in her tone.
A bit of Rex’s cool composure faltered as he turned to face the duke. “My coachman prefers a breakneck pace, Your Grace, and traffic was surprisingly light this evening.”
“You needn’t explain, Mr. Leighton.” Emily covered May’s meanness with a light tone. “Miss Sedgwick and I were just saying that we prefer a small party, and now we shall have one for a while.” She strode to a tray covered with diminutive glasses of sherry glinting like garnets in the gaslight and began distributing them.
One sip and warmth seeped into May’s limbs, though it did nothing to fill the emptiness in her chest. She had to find a way to manage this ridiculous quivering whenever he was near. And the anger. Tonight she needed to charm, and there was no reason to allow Rex Leighton to ruin her plans. He wasn’t the man she’d come to beguile.
“It’s a fine strategy to arrive early and prepare for the evening’s pursuit, Leighton. Survey the field first, I always say.” The duke circled the room as he spoke, stopping to tilt a portrait straight and refill his glass of sherry. Then he pointed at Emily. “My daughter can tell you more about each of the ladies she’s invited. Focus on the titled ones, Daughter. Mr. Leighton is on the hunt.”
The duke’s instructions made Emily blush, and May wondered again about her friend’s first encounter with Rex at the National Gallery. Em had divulged only the barest details, focusing mainly on her interest in his plan for a modern, electrified hotel in the heart of London. It seemed an ambitious scheme to May. Like something her father would dream up and then, through sheer force of will, make happen. Did a man who’d given up on her so easily have the grit to top London’s best hoteliers?
“Perhaps Mr. Leighton would prefer to meet our guests as they arrive and become acquainted with them in the traditional way, Papa.”
“Nonsense. The man is seeking a wife. Believe me, he’ll take any assistance we can offer and be grateful for it.”
May couldn’t meet Rex’s gaze, but she sensed him watching her as the duke and Lady Emily referred to his desire to marry. His goals, personal or professional, had nothing to do with her. Apparently he’d found some success in business and had plans for much more of the same. No better time for a man to marry than once he’d made his fortune.
No better time for her to marry than before her father lost all of his.
Encountering Rex now was mere coincidence. Whatever she’d felt before had no connection with her future. Those feelings hadn’t mattered to him then. They shouldn’t signify to her now. If he’d ever loved her, it had been a fleeting affection. He’d gone on with his life, and she would too.
“You’re unusually silent. Are you all right?” Rex’s voice sounded nearby, quiet and breathy.
“Thank you. I’m perfectly well, Mr. Leighton.” Her voice’s shaky quaver betrayed her. The man’s nearness set her on edge, but she met his gaze and tipped her chin high before stepping away and praying she could do so with more poise than she felt.
When the front bell sounded, Emily sat her glass down and patted her father’s arm. “More guests, Papa. I’ll go and greet them if you’ll entertain our American friends.”
May took up a spot near the fireplace that was blessedly warm and as far away from Rex as she could manage without leaving the room.
“Emily tells me you’re acquainted with each other.” The duke prepared himself another cordial with one hand and waved the other in the air between Rex and May.
“Yes, we knew each other long ago in New York.” May attempted to smooth her tone, infusing the words with the finality her father used when he didn’t wish for any questions to follow a pronouncement.
“And now here you both are. One seeking a match with a lord.” The duke tipped his head toward May. “One hoping to marry a noble lady.” He raised his glass out in Rex’s direction as if proposing a toast. “Puts me in the mood for a wager.”
May groaned inwardly. She’d experienced the duke’s love for wagers firsthand. Not only did he enjoy engaging in them himself, but he seemed to derive enormous pleasure from seeing others vie for a goal. She and Emily indulged him with frivolous competitions over cards or which of them would choose the prettiest hat at the milliners, but May never enjoyed the game. Emily insisted it was because she was an only child and had never had to compete for anything in her life. Yet it was the control of it, the sense that she was being manipulated like a marionette on a string, that rankled the most. She’d spent all of her life conforming to rules, performing the role of fashionable debutante and pampered heiress. Only in London had she gained a bit of control over her own actions and begun harboring desires that had nothing to do with achieving the right sort of marriage.
